


Cut Is the Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight

by meridian_rose (meridianrose)



Category: Will (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Community: trope_bingo, Drowning, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of Faith, Richard appears briefly, Richard is a good friend, Thomas is mentioned - Freeform, Trope Bingo Round 10, Unhappy Ending, Wakes & Funerals, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose
Summary: Will goes to meet Kit at a nearby lake to talk, but finds himself attempting to save his friend's life.For a trope bingo prompt "darkfic" - please see the warnings and tags. There's an alternate version of this fic with a happy ending, So Long Lives This and This Gives Life to Thee, linked inside.





	Cut Is the Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight

Will's phone beeped. He glanced at it almost absent-mindedly. A message from Kit. "Need a break? I'm at the park."

It was after dark but why not, Will decided. They might as well have writer's block together. Not that Will was really blocked, just stuck writing the resolution to his latest play. It would come, he was certain. Kit on the other hand hadn't written in what was now months rather than weeks and he'd grown irritable, melancholy in quieter moments with Will, overly enthusiastic in public to hide his frustration.

Will stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets as he walked. He had hoped the chill winter air would help stimulate him, body and mind, but it wasn't having the desired effect. The stars were beautiful in the clear sky but tonight they gave him no inspiration.

The park sat around a lake which was crossed by a steel bridge. In the moonlight the water was still and dark, reflecting the waxing crescent. Will kept to the path, avoiding the frost-covered grass, and looked around. He was about to call Kit and see where he was when he spotted a dark figure leaning on the railing of the bridge.

Will raised a hand in greeting, assuming it was Kit. The person's head was staring down at the water though and they gave no sign of seeing him. Will jogged towards the bridge, losing sight of it behind a stand of trees.

There was a splash. Will frowned. There were ducks in the park but they tended not to be active at night, not likely to be fighting. Had the person on the bridge dropped something into the water? It would have to have been something heavy.

Later he wondered at the inanity, the normalcy, of his thoughts. And at how he'd acted with practicality despite his horror when he realised that the figure was no longer on the bridge.

"Kit?" Will looked around. "Kit?"

The lake. Will hesitated but there were ripples on the surface and surely whoever had been on the bridge was now in the water. They needed rescuing, surely, whether or not they were Kit. And if it was Kit then Will was going to kill him for this.

Will kicked off his shoes and tossed aside his coat. He waded into the freezing water, gasping in shock as his trousers soaked through immediately and the cold robbed him of his breath. He gasped, called out. "Kit?"

He was mid-chest deep in the frigid lake when he found the body, grabbed at the dark coat and pulled, towing the lifeless victim to the shore.

Will stumbled onto the grass, laid the body flat on their back. He didn't want to see what he already knew, deep down. The unmistakable blond hair and sharp features, the tangled necklaces against the pale skin, the beringed and tattooed fingers.

"Kit!" Will leaned over, checked for a pulse. Nothing. He tipped Kit's head back, step one, clear the airway, he'd done a class - Richard had insisted they go because he'd got a crush on the CPR instructor. Will had never been so glad of one of Richard's dalliances before this moment.

Will reached for his phone because he had a vague idea that in fact that was step one. With fingers shaking from cold and terror he managed to call for help and told them yes, he knew CPR and yes, he'd do it until the paramedics arrived.

"Shit," Will said, returned his focus to Kit. What the hell, why? Later, that was a problem for later. Save his life first, demand answers after.

One more desperate check but no, Kit wasn't breathing, skin drained of colour, lips a bluish-purple. Will tried not to think of the first time Kit's lips had been on his, that rough, teasing kiss. He didn't want the memory soured as he pressed his mouth over Kit's, a kiss without warmth or response. Two breaths.

When there was no response, he knew had to move on to compressions. Will flung aside Kit's coat, tore open the dark shirt, scattering black buttons and exposing the pale skin with the myriad tattoos. He interlocked his fingers. Below and between the tattoos of the skull and the black bleeding heart, using the heel of his hand, elbows straight, pressing down about two inches. 

One, two, three, what song was he supposed to be chanting? Staying Alive, ironic, right. Rhythm was important. Will tried to focus on the words and not on the fact that he held Kit's life in his hands, or under his hands or something...

Kit wanted to live or he'd not have sent the message. If he wanted to die, if this was this plan, then why call Will here at all? Was it one of his irresponsible gambles, live or die depending on the odds of Will showing up, risking everything on the off-chance of Will saving him? Was Kit that desperate, that torn apart by his inability to write? It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something reckless, chasing meaning and inspiration and answers to questions no-one could answer.

Will gave a sob of frustration. His arms were tiring. He'd lost track of the song, caught up in his thoughts. Kit's body moved beneath Will's hands, chest forced in and belly out, but his eyes were still closed and there was no sign of life.

"Kit, come on, please!" Will was no longer counting in his desperation but he wasn't going to stop to give another breath anyway. The compressions were the important thing, he just had to keep going until someone told him to stop. He worried he was going to crack a rib and puncture a lung even as he worried that if he hadn't cracked any ribs he wasn't pressing hard enough.

It was less than ten minutes before help arrived but it felt like hours and Will was exhausted, half-frozen and sobbing as he moved back to let the paramedics work.

He managed to call Richard, the words seeming unreal even as he watched the scene before him. The paramedics could do more than he'd been able to, IV line and drugs, intubation, defibrillation. Will winced as the electricity surged through Kit's body.

"Stay where you are," Richard urged. "I'm on my way."

And so Will did, watched the ambulance leave, sirens blaring. Richard arrived, breathless, held Will close to warm and comfort him.

There were no more tears to shed however. He'd done his best and, with the cold temperatures and Will's rapid response there was a chance.

But Kit's gamble did not pay off.

There were no suspicious circumstances. Some alcohol in his bloodstream but Kit had not been drunk and there were no drugs found. There was no sign of trauma aside from that Will and the rescuers had inflicted in their attempts to save his life. There was no evidence of foul play and none of suicide, no note, no personal circumstances that most would agree suggested a reason for it. Misadventure maybe but in the end all anyone could say was that, for reasons unknown Kit had drowned in that cold dark water.

So it was recorded that this had been an accidental death

Will did not accept it had been an accident. He was wracked with doubt that misadventure was also too mild, wondering if suicide had been the real goal. It was impossible to know. Kit had always lived close to the edge, fascinated by the question of mortality and the afterlife. He'd strayed too far this time.

After the inquest was over the family held a funeral. Will was there, Richard's arm around his waist, while next to them was Thomas, weeping throughout the service. A brief overview of Kit's too short life before people's fondest memories were recounted, but there was no talk of God, not heaven or hell or resurrection. Kit was – had been - an atheist and his family respected that. Will couldn't help but wonder if he or Kit was right. Was there heaven? Hell? And if this had been suicide, if this had been reckless enough that it counted as bringing death to oneself, would Kit be punished?

That was the day Will turned his back on his faith, for he could no longer believe in a God or an afterlife which would be so cruel. Better oblivion than eternal damnation. It might be accurate to say, though he never thought of it, that his beliefs had truly died the night Kit had, when Will had failed to be the saviour he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Doctor Faustus by Marlowe, in reference to the titular character's premature death.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [So Long Lives This and This Gives Life to Thee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989240) by [meridian_rose (meridianrose)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose)




End file.
